


Whiskey In The Jar

by Canadihipster (Atomograd)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atomograd/pseuds/Canadihipster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the soul is in the right, then the deed must be as well, yes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey In The Jar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BardsAmbrosia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardsAmbrosia/gifts).



Death struck as a swift and single blow, mercifully enough. The crack of an already bloody club against his skull and he was decommissioned permanently. No more ships, no rum nor whiskey nor wine, high-class whores and silk lined fabrics. It was gone in such an instant that, when the afterlife claimed him, he hadn’t even realised he was already dead. It was only after the fact, when he found himself simply gone, mind so blank he couldn’t even find the will to worry, physical form missing and whatever part of him that made him, well, _him_ , already fading.

Orphaner Dualscar was not a man of comedy genius, admittedly. Justifiably enough, he’d never thought he would have to be. It was never part of training, no one had told him he’d have to prepare to be given to only the most highest of wickedly twisted subjuggulators for the sake of amusing someone under him on the spectrum by a single cast. Rather, his training was that of any fleet member: Enter the masses of similar place on the hemospectrum, memorize rules and regulations and proceed to live life to the letter of each. Learn to fight and hone one’s skills, battle, survive. It wasn’t difficult for him to enter the ranks, work his way up to the position he was satisfied enough with. That wasn’t enough for him, no, it never would be.

He had always craved more, always felt a need to fill up the empty spaces with what he wished for. More gold, more jewelry, more power - More slaughter, death, more lusii’s heads mounted on the walls, more pelts piled in the hold, a stronger crew. A crew strong enough to compete with him and spar on a day when he so wished and not be felled by his weaponry, be it blade or Ahab’s Crosshairs. He had strong men and women under him, a stronger Empress above him, and the blackest of romances one could ever ask for.

And, yet, an irritating greed nagged and nagged, a jealously that had yet t be founded, simply a looming threat of what was yet to come. Dualscar knew not what this was caused by, what had brought him to such desperate feelings, drove a drink’s glass clinking against the metal of his rings. He killed, he aided in feeding his beautiful ruler’s lusus, and he did as he pleased on the side.

When all seemed to be set in stone in his life, that rock began to crack. A man rose up and spoke in tongues, foreign intelligence slandering the beautiful Alternian language with it’s disgusting thoughts. Not only did he speak of peace, of unity, as if their society could truly function that way, but he loved. It was told that he and the huntress transcended the quadrants - whatever that nonsense actually meant. A gifted psionic user, one even Dualscar himself had heard word of, had freed himself and followed behind the mutant blooded man and his lover. Just as horrid a deed as all her companions had done, a jade blood escaped from serving the mother grub and took all of these misfits in.

It was sweeps after the Signless first reared his ugly head loud enough to gain the attention of the highbloods that the Orphaner was able to place his anxious twinges. Not only had the Dolorosa shirked her duties and their society’s workings entirely, supported insane visions and protected the bunch of freaks, but she was taken into custody and sold into slavery. How lucky for him, it was, that _his_ Mindfang found herself fancying her. How lucky it was, that she forced her slaves to do filthy actions, forced them to watch and enjoyed it.

Soon enough, he felt his relationship threatened, the planet once stable beneath his boots starting to crumble. So, of course, he did the logical thing and removed any threat to their kismesitude, shot the Dolorosa right through and left her corpse on his black love’s ship. For whatever ungodly reason he couldn’t place, she had grown upset, more violent with him than ever - She even managed to nearly toss him overboard. He was angry, frustrated, fins a flutter and eyes narrowed, teeth bared and a hand yanking her hair to toss her away as he snarled out a warning.

That was the first time he was struck hard enough over the head to tumble down to the floor beneath him.  
The second time it happened, he never got back up again.

Only a few sweeps later and it was a damn cavalreaper threatening their relationship - A disgustingly low mutant in and of himself, one of rebellion, a follower of the Sufferer to a violent degree.

His Mindfang was red for this man, and it was over the course of many sweeps that they bantered and battled whenever was necessary.

Meanwhile, deep out in the vast land of their universe, his Condesce was conquering planets like no one’s business. Her power was expanding, growth was finally happening and, after more sweeps came to pass, the Summoner never succeeded in his revolution attempts. Dualscar thought, by that time, the word of the preacher was long dead - But he was too often found with a bottle in his hand or a fresh corpse to drag too the sea to truly indulge in black market blood and the occult seeming whispers of what had been snuffed out of the public eye almost startlingly well.

Soon enough, he was off to rush to his Empress at her every beck and call, fighting the battles she demanded of him and his troops and the rest of the royal naval fleets. He marched into war ahead of her own journey, took down colonies of alien races and gave them no mercy. It was her command, of course, that Dualscar followed with all his heart. He took down and took over, crushed those beneath his boots who dared attempt to defend against him. He was a force to be reckoned with, might as well have been atop all the worlds he’d left tattered in his wake.

The Orphaner had always been a military man and could never see himself any other way. Never in another profession, no calling reached him minus his Condesce’s. Drinking and women and men and even a reliable crew to sail and plunder with were all simply hobbies on the side. He hunted, he fought, and he never even entertained the idea that a simple, well-told joke would save his life.

His death was not one befitting of him, in his opinion, so it was no loss to him that he could not quite remember it. He would not recall streaming flags nor wind blown sails, the parry of a rapier nor the proper way to aim a rifle, the taste of alcohol, of her knuckles grazing or bruising when he couldn’t manage to duck back fast enough. Alternia faded from him quickly and, with it, so went his Empress, so went his hunting and ship, his Mindfang and her Summoner’s desperate attempts to win a rebellion long since snuffed to a docile smolder.

Dualscar’s blood painted walls and his body was disposed of, another took his place and he the troops barely suffered for it.

Had he been able to glance back upon such events, he might have laughed scornfully and snatched another drink, muttering that the entire situation was fair enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted from my Tumblr.


End file.
